


Oh, What a Pair We'll Be

by Prodigalsan



Series: Wolves, Witches, and Other Weirdies [3]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, might add more but, self-indulgent af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18418553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prodigalsan/pseuds/Prodigalsan
Summary: Lee Unwin was a good man, Harry was certain. But even he couldn’t explain to his own boss how his friend just simply vanished into thin air every month, with no way of contacting or finding him. With reluctance, he accepted the reconnaissance mission, and he followed his fellow agent to a pub that… wait a minute.“Excuse me,” he asked a passer-by. He pointed at the now-blank pub sign he could have sworn had writings on it a while ago. “But do you know this place? A friend of mine went in, and I was so sure this establishment had been open.““A friend, you say?” a boyish voice cut in, and an arm wrapped itself around his neck. He would have thrown off the young man if it weren’t for the small, blunt object poking at Harry’s spine. “I’ll take you to him. He’s my da, after all.”—Hartwin Harry Potter!AU. Because what self-respecting fan of both wouldn’t mash up the two eventually?





	Oh, What a Pair We'll Be

**Author's Note:**

> This was inevitable, I'll admit :)) I honestly thought about something more serious and different; like the setting would be a "Voldy Wins" thing, and the Rebellion had to team up with muggle organizations like Kingsman to take back the Wizarding World... but eh, who has that kind of time? Not me lol. But who knows? I might pick up that idea one day. Provided no one else does it first :))
> 
> This is crack, though unfortunately treated a little seriously. This might remain a oneshot unless I get more inspiration for it. But what you see is what you get. Hopefully you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it~
> 
> The title comes from the song "Wizard and I" from the musical _Wicked_. I loooove that musical ugh.

Darjeeling had never been Harry’s favorite tea, definitely not, but that hadn’t been the reason why he had yet to take a sip of it at breakfast. In fact, he’d been looking forward to something warm and soothing to rush down his throat after making sure he was just barely on time to work. It was just that, after hearing the words come out of Chester’s mouth, he would surely spit it all out anyway—and, again, not a fan of Darjeeling, him, but that didn’t mean he would forego his manners.

He set the teacup down as gingerly as he could and turned his body towards Chester, who was daintily slicing his bacon like he hadn’t just dropped a metaphorical bomb on Harry. So to speak. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your next mission,” Chester indulged him after—once again, _daintily_ —dabbing at his mouth with the table napkin. “Is to shadow Bors indefinitely and report your findings on his activities.”

Bors, of course, being Lee Unwin—Harry’s candidate for Lancelot seventeen years ago. Lee Unwin, who had immediately sensed something off about their mark and warned them before a hidden bomb could have killed their team, none the wiser. Lee Unwin, who earned himself a seat on the Round Table despite there being originally only one position open at the time. Lee Unwin, talented agent, proud father, good friend.

And Chester wanted Harry to _spy_ on him.

“Why?” Harry asked after trying, and failing, to make sense of his superior’s decree. He even made sure to look as confused as possible, for surely Chester had obviously taken a blow to the head and had trouble making sense of things today. “What has Bors done for you to be suspicious of him _this_ time? Are you _still_ doubting his worthiness, after all that he’s accomplished? I’ll have you know—“

“ _Galahad_ ,” Chester interrupted him with the same condescending air as a parent would to a particularly petulant child. He even raised his brow like his Uncle Gregory did, someone whose choked-on-a-chicken-bone soul Harry mourned only because convention had required him so. “Despite my initial misgivings on your protégé, I _do_ see that he, at least, is a useful addition to the Table. That being said, my reasons for asking this of you are not prejudiced, contrary to what you have no doubtedly assumed.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth dipped the slightest bit. “Then _what_ , pray tell, are your reasons—if I may so _humbly_ ask, Arthur?”

Instead of responding, Chester reached for his own cup of tea and took a dainty, _dainty_ sip—illustrating how he, unlike Harry, had no complaints about today’s tea being Darjeeling, and that he, again, unlike Harry, had not been told something so outlandish that his brain failed to follow a simple command such as to sip some tea from a fucking teacup.

Clearly, it had been _Harry_ who was finding it difficult to make sense of things today, and Chester was very much throwing that suggestion in Harry’s face. Well, the old coot can just go fuck himself with his gross assumptions and poor manners. And that Darjeeling, too.

The door opened to reveal Merlin, whose pinched face did not speak of anything pleasant—as was the norm for most people, for a pinched face was universal speak for _I have something to say and you’re not going to like it_. Harry was well-versed in things spoken universally, so he knew this to be as good as gospel.

“I’m afraid Arthur has reasons to be suspicious,” was Merlin’s way of greeting them good morning today. His fingers danced their usual routine on his digital clipboard, and he motioned to the ornate mirror above the mantel of the fireplace behind him. “Glasses please, gentlemen.”

Harry sent Chester a narrow-eyed glare as they donned their glasses. The mirror’s surface turned into a screen, and pictures of several locations in London popped up, followed by the final picture of Lee Unwin walking inside a nondescript pub. 

“As of June 7th, 2013,” Merlin began, stiff as a barrister with a poorly-lubricated plug up his arse. “Lee Unwin, known as Bors, has been going off the grid in frequent intervals, particularly during holidays and moderate-length leaves between missions. This would normally be inconsequential, as Kingsman agents are granted a bit of freedom when it comes to their own time outside of work, but any attempts to locate him during this period have always bore no fruit. Wherever Bors goes, it cannot be traced on our systems.”

“Surely he simply leaves his equipment behind?” Harry asked, more for the sake of asking, rather than not knowing the answer himself.

Merlin took pity on him, however, and did not call him out. He shook his head. “If he leaves his equipment at home, the coordinates would simply appear on the grid. In this case, Bors not only takes his equipment with him, but disappears for a short time along with it.”

“We fear that he may be working for another organization.” Harry’s eyes shifted to Chester, who was giving him a strange, sympathetic look. “Whether it’s to spy on Kingsman, or to steal and replicate our technology, we cannot say. Whatever it is he’s up to, we have to find out. And you being his mentor, Galahad, you’re the perfect choice for this mission.”

The space between Harry’s brows creased, and he turned to Merlin for input. His friend was giving him a defeated look, inclining his head. Lee might have been Harry’s candidate, but it was inevitably Merlin he had formed a close bond with. For him to bring this news to Harry and agree that Lee might be up to something nefarious…

He sighed and finally, _finally_ took a sip of Darjeeling. It tasted like shite.

 

 

Lee Unwin had been an accident. Well, not _that_ kind of accident—Harry was sure his parents had been very much in love and had every intention of making him—but meeting him hadn’t been planned, was what Harry meant. He had been strolling down the park one day, in the merry, merry month of May, when, out of nowhere, a section of the park _exploded_ and had taken Harry, as well as a fair number of park visitors, by surprise. The throng of masked goons that emerged from the smoke like a cheesy scene in an action film, however, had been something Harry had not been surprised by at all.

He had merely turned around to tie Mr. Pickles’ leash to the leg of a bench, telling him very nicely, but firmly, to stay put and behave himself, when someone yelled something gibberish and caused _another_ explosion, taking Harry by surprise once again. When he turned around to check, a young man was standing in front of the goons, somehow managing to knock them out _and_ incarcerate them in the short span of time Harry spent talking to Mr. Pickles.

And Harry knew, in that moment, that the brave young man was _destined_ to be a Kingsman, for unfathomable, almost impossible feats were what separated the Knights from your average secret agent. And this belief to the young man he proclaimed, a belief that the he had considered for a moment before shrugging and saying, “a’ight.”

Harry could have shed a single tear at the young man’s decisiveness. Truly, truly meant for the Round Table, Lee Unwin was.

And seventeen years later, Harry still very much believed that Lee deserved to be where he was today. He was a good man; born not from aristocracy, which had Chester turning his nose up at, but from a stock that valued honor and loyalty above all else. And his worthiness had showed with each trial passed, each expectation exceeded. Harry could not have picked a better candidate if he had tried. 

Lee was a good man, Harry was certain. But even he couldn’t explain to his own boss how his friend just simply _vanished_ into thin air every month since June, with no way of contacting or finding him. Harry reviewed the feeds that Merlin collected while stalking him for three years, and he had not once yelled gibberish in any of them. Something highly suspect was afoot, for sure, and if Lee were to be truly conspiring with a potential enemy… it was only right that Harry bring him to justice.

So with reluctance, he accepted the reconnaissance mission, and with stealth skills that were envied by many of his fellow Knights, he followed his fellow agent to a pub that… wait a minute.

Harry blinked and turned around. Where—Where had Lee vanished into?

 _“Fuck, where’d he go?”_ whispered Merlin from the comms, reminding Harry that he was not alone in his confusion. _“Bors was walking straight into that pub and then… ah shite, let me review the feed—“_

“Please do,” Harry asked politely, because even in very confusing situations like this, he was a gentleman to the core.

To further demonstrate his gentlemanliness: “excuse me,” he asked a passerby. He pointed at the now-blank pub sign he could have _sworn_ had writings on it a while ago, but for some reason had none now. “But do you know this place? A friend of mine went in, and I was so sure this establishment had been open.“

The passerby followed the direction of his finger and frowned. “Pub? I don’t see a pub. This old store’s been abandoned for a long time, hasn’t it?”

“It’s a pub, good sir,” Harry informed the poor man, just as confused as he. Most likely he had witnessed Lee vanishing, and had decided to simply deny the event to maintain his sanity. But Harry had no sanity left to speak of, so he stood his ground. “But did you say it’s been abandoned for a long time? Dear me, my friend had been—“

“A friend, you say?” a boyish voice suddenly cut in, and an arm wrapped itself around Harry’s neck. He would have thrown off the young man if it weren’t for the small, blunt object poking at Harry’s spine. A gun? But it was too thin to be one. “Who you lookin’ for, guv?”

 _“Galahad, do not engage,”_ came Merlin’s voice, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

“I beg your pardon,” Harry said slowly, eyes darting from side to side. The passerby in denial had long since left, but there were still a few people walking down the road. And yet, they barely glanced in his direction when he’s being threatened with a vaguely pointy thing poking at his back, which was dug a little deeper when he didn’t speak for a while. “I was simply looking for my friend. I’m worried about him, and—“

“Hang on,” said the voice, and in a flurry of movement, Harry was treated to the lovely sight of blue-green eyes. Before he could react, the young man reached out and took off his glasses, and he wore them on his face, which had lit up. “ _Oh_.”

Harry acted fast; he grabbed the man’s wrist and attempted to throw him over his shoulder. But as he was about to do so, his hand felt empty, and Harry realized that he was uselessly grabbing air. Startled, he took a step back, before he heard gibberish and just _froze_ , landing on the pavement like he was a particularly heavy thing that _cannot move_.

His eyes darted around, and he was thankful for _that_ consolation, at least. He followed the young man’s movements as he was speaking—oh God, he was speaking to Merlin, wasn’t he? Fuck, how did this mission go tits up so fast? It was unfathomable. _Impossible_.

Wait. Could it be?

“Uh, huh. Yeah. Sure. Okay. I’mma let him know.” The young man continued to make affirming noises and nodding, and Harry shamefully took the opportunity to ogle the young man’s pert arse. It was rare to behold such perfect roundness from this angle, and Harry wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass him by, gentleman or not. “Sure, no problem. Would’a been easier if you guys just _asked_ , though. Fucking spies. But, well, I guess that wouldn’t be allowed, either. Whoops.”

Harry’s eyes would have widened if his eyelids had been granted the same freedom as his eyeballs, but alas, he was only able to express his shock internally. The young man exchanged a few more words with Merlin, and it was only when he turned did Harry notice him waving… a stick? Harry had been threatened with a _stick_?

He groaned—once again, mentally. If the other Knights found out about this, Harry wouldn’t be able to live it down, for Knights had very good memories. Like elephants.

Amidst his waxing poetic about their similarities to the majestic mammal, he suddenly found it possible to move, and he quickly sprung up on his toes, only to be impeded by the young man extending his glasses to him.

After a moment’s pause, he took it, reaching for his discarded brolly as well. “Thank you.”

“No problem, guv. Sorry about the whole thing, though. And not just the petrification thing.” The young man scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “You probably want answers, yeah? I’ll take you inside. The Statute of Secrecy is more lenient nowadays after the fall of the Dark Lord, so I’m not gonna get in trouble for taking you inside. I think.”

Harry paused and blinked. “You?”

“Oh, yeah, not very polite of me, innit?” The young man laughed, blue-green eyes twinkling. “The name’s Eggsy. You’re looking for Lee Unwin, yeah? I’ll take you to him. He’s my da, after all.”

 

 

Harry had a relative once. Her name was Regine. He had only seen her once or twice at family gatherings when they were children, but some time after she had turned eleven, she had made herself scarce. Her parents had kept mum about her whereabouts, cementing the idea that, wherever she went, it had been too shameful to speak about. Harry’s aunt Gwendolyn definitely thought so, at least; she had been particularly ruthless, spreading rumors about how she had most likely been possessed by a demon and sent to an asylum somewhere in America.

“It came from that mother of hers, surely,” she had whispered cruelly, loud enough for Harry’s young ears to pick up. “After all, what respectable family is called _Slughorn_? Really.”

Another aunt had said something about _witchcraft_ , but that had been dismissed by everyone, Harry included. Mental instability was one thing, but sorcery? _Magic_? Harry refrained from subscribing to such silly superstitions early on in life, knowing that wishes and fantasies only worsened the ache in his lonely, affection-starved heart. 

After all, if magic _was_ real, then the world wouldn’t need people like him—spies who kept to the shadows, saving millions by doing dirty, gritty work. 

At least, that had been what he _thought_ , until the little hellion known as Eggsy led him through a bustling pub, spread green pixie dust over the hearth (what the _fuck_?), and dragged him into a green inferno (????) that led them to this cozy-looking living room.

He faced Eggsy, asking for answers as calmly as his declining sanity allowed him.

“Sorry we had to take the floo, guv,” Eggsy said, taking him by the arm to another room, which was the kitchen. The young man pulled out a chair from under the dining table, and Harry slowly sat in it. “New rules about apparition and such outside the wards. With smartphone cameras and CCTV’s all ‘round, we can’t suddenly disappear in front of muggles nowadays. But, heh, I guess we can’t hide from everyone, eh?”

Harry stared at him, blinking owlishly. The door at the back suddenly opened, and lo and behold, the man he was tasked to shadow appeared, stopping in his tracks when he saw Harry. It took him about four seconds to speak.

“Ah, fuck, it was the trackers in the glasses, wasn’t it? Should’a known,” cursed Lee, who was wearing a strange approximation of an apron—or a dress. Harry couldn’t tell, but either way, he didn’t judge. “So sorry about that, Galahad— _Harry_. I didn’t know it would happen. The wards allow Wifi and some devices to work here, but I should have known trackers would be blocked.” 

“You had trackers on you?” Eggsy asked, turning to his father. “And you never told me? What the fuck, dad!”

“You know I can’t tell you much about my job, Eggsy,” Lee said, though he did look abashed as he took out a kettle and—dear God, he had a stick, too.  And were those pots and pans… _floating?_ “You know I can’t just pop back at the old flat, so I can’t leave anything important behind. And after the divorce, I must have forgotten all about it.”

“ _Dad_.” Eggsy sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

“I know, my bad, my bad. Sorry, son.” Lee turned to Harry and gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry, Galahad.”

“That’s all right,” Harry said, for really, what _else_ is there to say? He was too busy gaping at the pile of dishes _cleaning themselves_ by the sink to notice Lee offering him tea and sitting across him. It was a miracle he could form coherent thought at all.

Lee sighed and pressed the heel of his palms to his eyes. “Fuck, it isn’t, is it? I messed up, didn’t I? I’m gonna get killed. Or worse—I’m gonna get dismissed. I really _like_ being a Kingsman. It’s so _different_.”

“ _Different_ ,” Harry echoed, for that is the extent of his mental skills now. Echoing things. Perhaps the circular motion of the rag drying the plate was hypnotizing him and turning his brain into mush. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to have ever happened to him. 

“Oi, dad,” came Eggsy’s voice, and Harry’s eyes immediately darted towards him. He paused before saying, “I think he’s a little broken now. D’you think we should give him some Pepper Up potion or…?”

“Ah, you’re right. Wait, how did you even get here? You didn’t apparate, did you?”

“No, we got here via floo. Anti-Apparate Anywhere Act, remember?”

“Ah, right. Damn, sorry about that, Galahad! Traveling by floo isn’t as bad as apparating, to be honest, but it must have been a doozy still. We should definitely get you something. Wait, do we even _have_ Pepper Up potions?”

“Don’t think so. I’ve yet to make a visit to the apothecary, and the pantry upstairs is still a mess.” 

“Well, we’ll just have to _make_ some, won’t we? Shouldn’t be hard.” Lee rose from the table and went further into the apartment, pulling down the rope that opened the hatch on the ceiling. A ladder slowly descended, and Lee and Eggsy _as_ cended, their voices trailing off the higher they went.

And Harry watched all this happen, unblinking.

With no hosts to distract him, he surveyed the room again: the kitchen was normal, if somewhat quaint in style, but Harry could appreciate vintage and eclectic. Braving a short walk to the sink, he looked out the window (side-eyeing the rag wringing itself dry), and was shocked to find that they were in the middle of fucking nowhere, with nothing around them but grass, the occasional tree, and odd-shaped buildings scattered in the horizon. From their size, he concluded that they must be houses, and it was likely that _this_ house was similarly designed. 

His shaky hands tapped on the rim of his glasses. No response from Merlin. _Shit_.

He was tempted to explore his new surroundings, but since he was a gentleman currently in his friend’s house, he refrained. Instead, he went back to his seat and stared at the table, watching the steam rise from the tea he was given. Hesitantly, he reached for it and took a sip.

He was happy to note that the tea was _not_ Darjeeling. He almost cried and thanked God for small mercies.

 

 

If traveling through the fireplace was like spinning in a hurricane, “apparition” was like being kneaded and pulled till he was as thin and soft as a noodle. At that thought, Harry suddenly felt empathy for pasta, for if this was what it had to go through to feed pasta lovers around the world, then surely they deserve a bit more respect now. He made a note to tell Alistair to be gentle when making his own spaghetti noodles—the man was a good agent, but he was painfully violent in the kitchen.

His newfound sympathy for pasta was short-lived, however, when he remembered all the things that Lee had shared with him this afternoon. Magic was _real_. Witches, wizards, vampires—all of that was real! Tiny Harry would be jumping around for joy, but present Harry was still feeling quite woozy from being treated like dough, so he decided to be giddy about the discovery in spirit.

“Hey,” Eggsy said after Harry had recovered. He noted that he was being scrutinized, and he wondered just what the young man did for a living to exude such an intimidating aura. “Is me dad gonna get in trouble for this? If he is, you better say so now; he might be attached to that Kingsman job of his, but he’ll get over it if he has to.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, watching warily as the wall once again deconstructed itself brick by brick. Do physics even _work_ around here? Maybe Lee would tell him if he asked nicely.

“I ain’t an idiot. I know you was tailing my dad to find out why he was disappearing and shit.” Eggsy shrugged, his pace a little slower as they reached the backdoor to the dark pub. He leaned against it, effectively trapping Harry between a brick wall and the only way out. “But you see, you muggles ain’t suppose to know about us. Not unless you marry a witch or wizard, like me mum did. And fit bloke or not, you ain’t an exception.”

“You think I’m fit?” was, apparently, Harry’s take on an intelligent question. He needed another one of those pepper thingies they gave him.

“Yeah. Too bad I don’t date muggles. What a pair we’d be, eh?” Eggsy grinned, baring his perfect, straight teeth. “But that means what happens next is gonna be a lot easier for me.”

Harry wasn’t surprised to see the stick— _wand_ , bloody hell—pointed between his eyes, so he kept his eyes trained on the young man in front of him. “I assume this is where you wipe my memory of today’s events?”

“And I’m guessin’ you do that a lot yourself, bein’ a spy, an’ all,” Eggsy said, shrugging. “But yeah, that’s what’s gonna happen. Sorry about this—I know you’re my dad’s friend, but I can’t let you go with what you know.”

“What about Mer—“ Harry paused at the look on Eggsy’s face. “You got to him already.”

“A friend at work already oblivitated him, yeah.” Eggsy shrugged again, craning his neck to make it pop. “Okay, let’s get this over with, yeah? Gonna pay your boss a visit too, but not before dealing with you.”

“If you were planning to wipe my memory,” Harry began slowly, his eyes registering the wand twitching as he kept his gaze on Eggsy. “Why did you take me here? Why tell me all the things you did?”

Eggsy’s head tilted slightly, and that shouldn’t have looked endearing, considering he was holding a very dangerous weapon that was centimeters close to poking out his eye along with erasing his memories of today. But alas, Harry had a weakness for lethal pretty boys, making him thank the secret agent gods that megalomaniacs tend to favor femme fatales as loyal right hands. 

“ _Maybe_ ,” Eggsy began, drawing out the vowel and lowering the wand. He traced Harry’s jaw, smiling. “I just wanted to get to know the bloke who gave me dad the job he loves so much. Maybe dad showed me a picture of him a few years ago, and I’d harbored a bit of a crush on him all this time. Maybe, _maybe_ , I just wanted to be selfish for once, ‘cause Merlin knows I ain’t got the luxury, bein’ an Unspeakable, an’ all.

“But I can’t be selfish forever, can I? Oh, well.” Eggsy sighed, aiming his wand. “So long, Harry Hart. _Oblivia—_ “

“Wait.” The tip of the wand touched Harry’s Adam’s apple, and it bobbed when he swallowed. “Please. Reconsider.”

“Why?” Eggsy asked, honestly perplexed. He poked Harry’s cheek with the wand. “Gimme one good reason, guv.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Harry promised. At Eggsy’s unconvinced look, he added, “I’m a spy. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s to hide information. Your world does not pose a threat to mine, and unless that changes, I can keep a secret. I can keep _Lee’s_ secret.”

“You won’t grass us up? To your boss? Or friends?”

“No one. I swear to you.”

Eggsy held his gaze for what seemed like years, until he slowly lowered his wand, pocketing it in the holster attached to his leg. He smirked and inclined his head. “Much appreciated, guv. To be honest, I didn’t really feel like obliviatin’ you. Dad likes you a lot, and I saw how sad he was when you said you needed to go. He knew what was gonna happen after we left.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Harry said breathily, and he only realized how terrified he had been, standing at the end of that wand. “I don’t… I don’t want to forget this. All of this. This is all very—“

“ _Magical_?” Eggsy supplied, grinning.

Harry scoffed. “I was going to say _unbelievable_ , but yes, I suppose your description fits well enough, as well.”

Eggsy laughed, slapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You know what, guv? You’re all right. No wonder dad likes you. You’re a riot. Maybe havin’ you around could be fun. Even if you are a muggle.

“I’m still gonna wipe your boss’s memory, though. No offense, guv.”

Harry hummed, frowning. He knew he should be concerned for Chester, as his loyalty to Kingsman should come first, but Chester was a bigoted prick, and as he said, the Wizarding community didn’t pose a threat (there was potential yes, but nothing he could discern at the moment), so he would let it go. As a technicality. And not because Lee’s son had a fantastic arse.

Eggsy led him to the pub’s front entrance, saying that he was staying inside, as Harry’s glasses would start working again when he left the wards. Harry nodded and said his farewells, but before he could even grab the doorknob, Eggsy surprised him by standing on his tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

Harry thanked the dim lights for (maybe?) hiding his flushed face. “I—“

“Thanks for being me dad’s friend,” Eggsy said quietly, his smile sweet. “He was a mess when mum left, but Kingsman kept him going. I owe you a lot, guv.”

Harry blinked, too dazed to register that he was gently being pushed out the door. The cool breeze and a soft click pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned around to, once again, stare at the blank signage above the beaten-up door.

 _“Galahad?”_ came Merlin’s voice from the comms. It was hoarse and gritty from sleep. _“I—I seemed to have passed out. Fuck, how the bloody hell did that happen? What was I—“_

“You sound stressed, my friend,” Harry commented lightly, swinging his brolly as he walked down the street. He felt like breaking into song, but the lack of rain deterred him. “Perhaps an early night in would do you some good. James has a mission in Argentina, does he not?”

 _“Dindrane has point for that mission,”_ Merlin said. Then, _“but, well, I do feel fucking horrible. Shite, did I_ really _pass out? Jesus. And why the bloody hell are you skipping?”_

“No reason, my wizardly friend.” Harry smiled at his own joke, touching his cheek. “No reason at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Btw, I have nothing against Darjeeling. I just found the idea funny :)) Will edit any mistakes later~


End file.
